


Where you lead, I will follow

by WerewolvesAndWinchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Heaven, M/M, This is what happens, after the boys bite it, and in pieces, and totally unbeta'd so be kind, written at ass o'clock in the morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerewolvesAndWinchesters/pseuds/WerewolvesAndWinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happened so fast, Dean barely had time to register what was going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It happened so fast, Dean barely had time to register what was going on.

It was a routine hunt; now that the gates of Hell had been closed, the Winchesters didn’t have to worry about the bigger baddies throwing a wrench in humanity’s plans. It was simply a case of mopping up the remaining low-level demons hunkered down in their meatsuits. Garth had spread the word between hunters and it seems that slamming the gates of Hell shut forever had done a lot of good to the Winchester name. Many hunters forgave the brothers for their part in the apocalypse, although some were still distrustful of Sam for his demon blood binges. If they had known about Cas’ part in the Leviathan release it might not have absolved them, but as it was the only person besides the brothers who knew about it was dead. Together with groups of hunters across America and in other parts of the world, the Winchesters were focusing thoroughly on dispatching the last of the black-eyed bastards, occasionally throwing in a salt-and-burn or witch hunt if they came across one although with no demons available to lend their power to the wannabe-occult, the latter was harder to come by, much to Dean’s relief.

This hunt was no different. The boys had tracked what they thought was a single, medium-level demon who was hunkered down in North Dakota, not too far from the burned down shell of Bobby’s house. What they found in the abandoned warehouse was enough to throw them off their game. Three demons were pacing the cracked concrete floor while another one tortured what Cas confirmed to be an angel for information on how to reopen the gate.

Normally, being outnumbered wouldn’t have been an issue but since Castiel’s escape from Purgatory, the angel’s Grace had yet to replenish. Resigned to a life of not-quite-human, not-quite-angel, he had traded in his trademark tie and trenchcoat for jeans and Dean’s hand-me-down shirts and picked up hand to hand combat with ease. Still a terrible shot with a gun however, Sam had found him a pair of rune-engraved sai swords in one of Bobby’s old storage units that seemed to pack enough of a punch to incapacitate a demon which gave them enough time to perform an exorcism, while leaving the host’s body well enough to recover most of the time. Dean had handed Cas a red bandana and laughed until he cried when he saw Cas wearing it and constantly asked the angel to say things like ‘Cowabunga dude’ – Cas was not amused.

Despite the number disadvantage, Dean gave the signal for Sam and Cas to enter from the back while Dean distracted the group long enough for Cas to cut the angel loose. Dean was banking on the angel being grateful enough to stick around and help clean house but the plan was ruined when the demon torturing the angel suddenly stopped and snapped his fingers. Two demons disappeared and materialized seconds later holding Sam and Cas. Rushing into the room, Dean found himself surrounded and the leader standing in front of him, smiling evilly.

“Dean Winchester,” he said with a purr in his voice, eyes flicking to black as he spoke. “You boys have caused quite a bit of trouble over the past few years, haven’t you? Just think of what a reward I will get when I not only reopen the gates of Hell, but make sure the three of you find your way downstairs. I might even be given the honour of working over the angel. I doubt you’ll get the choice to climb off the rack again, but I wonder how long little Sammy here will take to break. Anyone want to place bets?”

The ring of demons snickered around Dean and his anger flared at the thought of his brother and Cas being tortured in Hell. He nodded once at Cas and spread his arms in a benevolent gesture.

“Tell ya what boys, you let my brother and Cas go and I promise we won’t kill you,” he mocked. “We’ll only exorcize you, quick and painless. You won’t even feel a thing.”

The leader laughed. “Oh yeah, and how do you plan on taking down all four of us by yourself?”

Dean grinned wolfishly at them all. “Just like this, asshole.”

At that, Castiel whipped out the arm that had snaked inside his jacket, startling the demon just long enough so he could pull the pin and throw the smoke grenade in the air. It went off just as it was beginning its descent and smoke filled the air. The sprinkler system groaned to life and seconds later, the smoky air was filled with screams as the water blessed by Castiel hit the demon’s skin. Cas and Sam broke free and began fighting the two demons closest to them. Dean pulled the demon killing knife from its place on his belt and swung at the demon standing to his left.

Already, the short supply of water in the sprinkler’s tank was running out and the demon was rubbing blistered hands across her face to clear her vision. She blocked Dean’s attack with her forearm and sunk a fist into his stomach. Dean dropped to his knees with a grunt but managed a glancing blow to her torso. A tortured scream from the back of the warehouse, signaling either Sam or Cas’ defeat of their demon, distracted her long enough for Dean to rise to his feet and sink the knife into her chest. With a flash, the demon died and the body slid to the floor.

Sounds of a struggle continued at the back of the room and as the smoke began to clear, Dean saw Sam and Cas teamed up against the other demon. Looking around for the leader, he saw no signs of it and headed towards the angel tied up in the chair. Cutting loose his bonds, Dean tilted the angel’s face up and lightly slapped his cheek.

“Hey, hey, you’re gonna be alright, okay? We got you,” he said.

The angel turned his blue eyes toward Dean and slurred, “Dean Winchester?”

“Samandriel? Dude, you have got to be the unluckiest angel I have ever seen,” he said with a small chuckle. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

Another scream at the back of the room meant the third demon had been taken care of. Dean glanced over at the pair, Sam slightly breathless with his hands on his knees, and Cas daintily wiping the blood off his sai. He smiled at the angel when a shadow detached itself from the wall and slammed the silver point of an angel blade into Castiel. The angel looked down in shock as the blade protruded from his stomach and looked at Dean before he collapsed on the ground.

“No!” Dean shouted, reaching behind him for the demon knife tucked into his belt. Like a whip, the arm flicked forward and the knife embedded itself into the demon’s chest faster than he could realize what was happening. The body tumbled to the floor with the smug look of victory still on its face.

“Cas!” Dean rushed forward, boots tracking holy water through the ash left by Castiel’s wings. “Cas, no, c’mon buddy, don’t die, you can’t die.”

“Dean, it’s too late,” Sam said, grabbing onto Dean’s shoulder with tears in his eyes. “He’s gone man.”

“No, don’t say that Sammy,” Dean said kneeling to the ground and pulling Castiel’s body to his chest. “We’ve been through so much, he can’t die. He can’t, because I never told him. I never told him Sam.” Dean’s vision blurred and he looked up at his brother, blinking away tears.

Sam knelt to the ground beside his brother. “You never had to Dean. He knew. He always knew. I’m pretty sure he knew before you even did.”

Dean choked back a sob and clutched at Castiel’s jacket. At the sound of shuffling footsteps, both brothers looked up to see Samandriel making his way slowly towards them.

“You! You’re an angel, you can fix him. Bring him back!” Dean demanded.

Samandriel bowed his head before he shook it slowly back and forth. “I cannot, Dean Winchester. Healed him perhaps, although not in this weakened state, but I am afraid that a fatal blow with an angel sword is beyond even my help.” He looked down at his fallen brother. “Castiel is gone, Dean. But take comfort in the knowledge that I will tell stories of his bravery and loyalty, for even though he rebelled against Heaven, he embodied the exact purpose we were created for. To love.”

Dean gritted his teeth and pulled the angel blade from Castiel’s back.

“That’s not good enough!” he shouted as he threw the sword at Samandriel. The sword missed its mark by a wide margin, but Samandriel took a step backwards and tilted his head to the side, listening.

“If it is any consolation to you, Castiel is not in Purgatory. Our Father has chosen to give him the respite he earned and will now rest in the arms of his Lord.”

“What’s that mean? He’s back in Heaven? He can just find a new vessel and come back right?” Dean asked hopefully.

Sam looked sadly at his brother. “No Dean. There’s no coming back this time.”

“Sam is right,” the angel said. “Castiel died an angel, but our Father has allowed his Grace to enter Heaven much like a human soul. He will live eternally in a setting of his choice. I believe he preferred the Heaven of a man in a park once, but it may be he has chosen a new place now.”

He raised a hand in goodbye to his brother, said farewell to the Winchesters, and was gone in a rustle of wings.

Dean held onto Cas’ body until he had no more tears to cry.

 

///

 

They gave Castiel a hunter’s funeral between the rusted shells of junkers in Bobby’s old scrap yard. Dean tied the red bandana across Cas’ eyes, and Sam placed the sai swords on his chest, and they watched until the last ember had died out half hoping for another miracle.

Dean drank himself into alcohol poisoning that night, and as Sam watched the nurses pump his stomach full of charcoal, he thought that this was just the first into a long line of half-cocked suicide attempts by Dean now that Cas was dead.

But Dean surprised him when he was released from the hospital. He quit drinking all together, continued to hunt demons without going on a kamikaze rampage and even talked to Sam late at night after a hunt about Castiel. Several months passed, and Sam received more acceptance letters to college and this time Dean suggested it was time for Sam to get out of the life and back into the one he wanted. Sam was suspicious of Dean’s motives at first, but Dean seemed genuinely ok. He even suggested that he would retire from the life and get an apartment near whichever school Sam choose, and only go off on the occasional hunt.

“I’m getting to old for this shit Sam,” he said. “And you were right, everyone we know is dead. You’re all I have left in this world and I want you to be happy. Mom never wanted this for us anyways, and with all the demons locked in Hell, nobody else will have to go through what we went through.”

There were holes with that argument, Sam knew. He knew there were still werewolves, and vampires and wedigoes and creatures from people’s nightmares still out there, hurting people. But he wanted so badly to get out while he and his brother were still alive, he agreed.

And for a few more months, it was perfect. Dean got a job at a local auto shop and Sam took up his pre-law classes (his tuition only paid partly in fraudulent funds) and sometimes Dean or the pair would take a nearby case if it came up. Garth would drop in unannounced occasionally to see what they were up to, and for all that Dean would grumble about him trying to be the new Bobby and acting like a grade A ‘idjit’, he smiled more when the younger hunter was visiting and his laughs were just a little less fake.

So of course, Sam wasn’t expecting it when Dean didn’t come home from a hunt.

 

///

 

Dean’s only thought as he died was how much more peaceful this death was compared to his others. There was nobody being forced to watch him die, no one to make a deal for his soul, and no collateral damage. The side of the semi-truck was damaged, but unless the trucker was carrying people in the trailer, no one else had to die because of him.

He felt rather than saw someone standing next to him and he struggled to turn his head, crying out in pain as glass dug into his shoulder as he shifted.

“Shh, shh, shh honey, you’re okay,” a familiar voice said and Tessa’s face swam into view. “Don’t struggle, it’s almost time. And don’t even think about running from me. Someone is waiting for you.”

Dean whispered an apology to his baby, and then to his brother, and finally closed his eyes.

 

///

 

Thanks to Dean’s (mostly) legitimate drivers’ license – assumed names wouldn’t work if Sammy ever wanted to be a real lawyer, but their birthplaces and birthdays had been fudged so they weren’t pegged by the FBI – the police officer who attended the scene knew how to get a hold of Sam to deliver the news.

“Was it a suicide?” Sam asked with trepidation.

“Suicide?” the voice on the phone asked. “Not unless he would cut his own brake lines and drive into a semi-truck. No son, unfortunately it looks like your brother was murdered but we don’t have any leads. Was there any reason your brother was in town?”

Sam swallowed hard. Dean had been tracking a kitsune down the highway and had stopped overnight at a motel the night before he died. “No, he was just passing through.”

“Well then, I’m afraid there’s not much else we can do. I’ll let you know if anything turns up.”

Sam thanked the officer and hung up the phone, staring blankly at the wall.

 

///

 

Dean opened his eyes and did a double take. He was standing inside a rundown barn, covered in sigils and protective markings. Thunder crashed outside and lightning lit up the sky. Just as he remembered where he knew the barn from, the doors crashed open and a dark haired man in a trenchcoat marched through, face contorted with anger.

“You…you…you _bastard_ ,” Castiel spat, as he shoved at Dean’s shoulder. “I did not rebel against Heaven and get myself killed protecting you just so you could off yourself at your earliest convenience. How could you?” The last sentence was punctuated with another shove.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there Cas,” Dean said, face split into a wide grin despite the abuse. “I didn’t ‘off’ myself, honestly. It was a car accident. I was tracking a kitsune and stopped overnight at a motel. Someone cut my brake lines, I hit a semi-truck. Bam. End of story.”

Castiel blinked and his mouth made an ‘O’ of surprise. “My condolences.”

“Don’t think I didn’t think about it, after you were gone,” Dean continued. “But I figured you’d be pretty pissed if I killed myself, so I kept truckin’. Got Sammy set up in college, started working at a place with benefits, set up a nice insurance policy in case something happened. Only took on a few hunts a month. Kinda hoped my welcome would be a bit warmer though, when the time did come. Thought you might be glad to see me.” Dean winked at the former angel and Castiel blushed and looked at his feet.

“Though the circumstances leave much to be desired, I _am_ glad to see you,” Cas said, blushing even harder. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Dean said, grabbing Castiel by the lapels and hauling him in for a bruising kiss. “Kinda upset I didn’t do that while we were still alive though.”

Castiel looked at him coyly from under his lashes. “Well, we have all of eternity now…”

Dean laughed and pulled him in for another kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Time passes differently in Heaven than it does in Hell, or Purgatory, or Earth, and it does not follow a linear progression. It weaves and warps, speeds up and slows down. One minute on Earth could be years in Heaven, or seconds in Heaven could be centuries in Hell. Even Ash hadn’t quite figured out how time passes in the different dimensions in relation to each other, but he was working on it. The genius had perfected his Heaven jumping by creating a lasting portal that could link frequently travelled areas together for good, without the need to recreate the spell each time. As such, the Roadhouse was a central area for many different portals, the Grand Central Station of Heaven as Ash called it. Dean and Cas, having moved into their own Heaven, consisting of two storey house sitting on acres of land covered with busted up classic cars for Dean to fix and a garden and bee hives for Cas to tend, asked Ash to set up a direct link between their place and Dean’s parents’ Heaven, as well as a direct line to the Roadhouse so Dean could visit with Ellen and harass Jo a bit. He still blamed himself for their deaths, along with Ash’s and Pamela’s, and found small ways of saying sorry every time he saw them – pulling Jo’s ponytail because he knew she liked it, helping Ellen tend the bar on busy days, keeping Ash company while he worked on his time theory. Even Cas came out to visit some times, and would take Pamela to visit his memories of his life as an apology for burning out her eyes.

Although no one needed to eat, or drink, or even sleep in Heaven, old habits die hard and life continued on in Heaven much like it did on Earth, albeit at a much slower (or faster depending on which side of Ash’s equation you were looking at) pace.

Dean and John spent a good chunk of time together reconciling when Dean first settled into Heaven. Nothing could completely erase or undo all the years of obsession and pain, bitterness and heartache between them, but after the peace of Heaven showed him the error of his ways (and Mary gave him a piece of her mind), John realized his mistake and tried to make it up to Dean. It took some time, but Dean finally opened up and the two are still working on reconciling their differences.

During this time, Mary took Cas under her wing – metaphorically, of course – and taught him how to bake Dean’s favourite pies, and told him stories of when he was a small child. Cas, in turn, told Mary about how he rescued Dean from Hell and how his soul shone brighter than anything he had ever seen before. He told Mary about all the people Dean saved throughout his life and how much good he and Sam ended up doing despite it not being the life she wanted for her boys.

She cried and held onto Dean tightly when he came home that night.

Dean even got to meet his paternal grandparents, the ones John never spoke about. As it turns out, Dean’s half-brother Adam was named after John’s brother who died as a young boy. John’s parents – Donny and Agatha (‘Call me Aggie, there’s a good boy,’) – hadn’t been happy with the way John had cut them out of his life after Mary died, but they were proud of the way the boys had grown up nonetheless.

There was still too much bad blood between Dean and Samuel after what happened for the year Sammy didn’t have a soul for there to be many visits to his maternal grandparents, but he would kiss Deanna on the cheek on the days he found her in the kitchen making pies with Mary and Cas.

It wasn’t perfect: Dean still itched to kill things some days and lamented the fact that he couldn’t save anymore people stuck up in Heaven, and Cas was still adjusting to not being an angel and was miserable for days (or weeks, or minutes, or years, Ash still hadn’t figured it out) after they came across a small legion of angels while they were Heaven jumping. As a whole, the unit turned their backs on Castiel and flew away, except for one; a youthful teenaged angel in a red uniform and baseball cap smiled and waved slowly at the pair before taking flight.

No, it wasn’t perfect but it was the closest thing Dean had ever had and he tried to enjoy it as much as he could but it still felt like something was missing.

One morning he woke up, lying next to Cas with the sun streaming across their bed and something felt different.

He gently shook Cas awake. “Today’s the day,” he said. Cas nodded and together they got dressed and headed out the door.

They visited Dean’s parents first but Dean could tell they already knew. Mary kept glancing out the window with a look of anticipation mixed with apprehension and John had already drank half a bottle of scotch (you can’t get drunk in Heaven, but old habits die hard for hunters). They both gave Mary a hug and Cas clapped John on the shoulder in a gesture he seemed to have picked up from the man, and together they left for the Roadhouse.

Pamela, being a psychic, knew of course, but when the couple announced to the rest of the crowd at the bar – the Harvelles, Bobby, Ash and surprisingly the Ghostfacers’ dead intern Corbett, who inexplicably chose to hang out at the Roadhouse – they received mixed reactions. Shrugging his shoulders at Ash, who asked him how long he thought it had been, Dean bid farewell to the group and he and Cas set off again.

They hopped through a couple of memories that Dean thought could be likely, before settling on an open field under a starry sky. Fireworks echoed in the distance.

“Are you sure it is this one?” Castiel asked, looking around. He recognized the memory from stories Dean told.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Dean said gruffly.

And so they sat down on the hood of the Impala, and waited.

In reality, Dean wasn’t sure this was the right one. Not by a long shot. There were so many other memories to pick from that Dean wasn’t a part of, but he hoped (and had hoped since arriving in Heaven) that when the time came, it would be somewhere Dean would recognize.

Tension built up in Dean’s stomach as time stretched and still they waited. Dean slid off the hood of the Impala and turned to face the two silhouettes in the distance, lighting off fireworks. Suddenly, the tension snapped and Dean knew it was time. He looked around but all he saw was empty field. His heart dropped.

“I was wrong, this isn’t it,” he said. He began to make the right symbols on the side of the car to jump back to their Heaven.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Dean, look.”

He followed where Cas was pointed and where the sounds of a dog barking were heard. A tall figure with long hair was standing in the middle of the previously empty field, dog jumping up and down excitedly around his legs.

Dean stood up, and waited for the figure to notice him. Fireworks continued to go off in the sky and the silhouettes remained oblivious to everything around them. The man looked up at Cas on the Impala and Dean standing in front of it and began walking towards them.

He took a couple slow steps forwards, and suddenly they were both running at each other. The collided halfway, a tangle of limbs, the dog yapping excitedly and Cas grinning from his place on the car.

Dean ruffled the man’s hair and said, “Hey there Sammy, took ya long enough.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sam’s welcome in Heaven was a bittersweet one for Dean. He had dearly missed his brother but having spent his whole life – and sold his soul – so that Sammy could live to an old age, he was a little disappointed to see a Sam who didn’t look much older than when he himself had died. How long had Sam lived after Dean had died? Had any of his sacrifices and hard work made a difference?

There hadn’t been much time to talk with him after he arrived. Dean and Cas drove him to the Roadhouse and the ensuing party had lasted for hours (or days or minutes, Ash still wasn’t sure but he was getting closer). Dean had caught Booby staring at Sam with a mix of expressions on his face and he knew the old hunter had the same questions he did: was it all in vain?

Driving Sam to Mary and John’s house had been a different story entirely and Dean was man enough to admit he teared up as Sam met his mother for the first time. Meeting a young Mary didn’t compare to meeting the woman who had given them life and died protecting baby Sammy. Even the years of animosity between Sam and John had completely dissolved after that and the three of them held each other and cried for a very long time. And if Castiel held Dean while he watched the reunion and cried, well… no one was going to judge him for it.

“Stop thinking so hard Dean, I can hear you from here,” Sam said.

Dean shook his head, startled out of his thoughts and looked over at his brother beside him. It had been a few days – by Heaven’s standards – since Sam had arrived and the pair was seated at the bar in the Roadhouse, on what appeared to be a quiet Tuesday afternoon. Duke, the golden retriever who had found Sam when he had first arrived, was lying at his master’s feet enjoying the sunshine that poured in through the grimy windows above the bar.

“Seriously man, what’s on your mind? You look miserable and I’m pretty sure that’s impossible in Heaven,” Sam continued.

Dean took a sip of his beer before letting out a dry chuckle. “Why shouldn’t I be miserable Sammy? Everyone I know is dead.”

Sammy rolled his eyes. “Dude. Yeah, but we’re all here now. No more waiting.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “Yeah, the waiting is killer.”

Sam snorted. “Way to corner the market on black humour today Dean. Go ahead, I know what you want to ask. You want to know how long I lived for, don’t you? How I died?”

Ash popped up behind the bar from seemingly nowhere. He leaned forward on his elbows and cocked an eyebrow at Sam. “Well I certainly want to know how long it was before you bit the bullet after Dean. But you can spare me the details.”

Dean shot Ash a look, but Sam set his beer down and took a deep breath.

“Well after I got the call about you Dean, I kinda lost it a bit. I guess it was sort of like that year when I didn’t have a soul. The cops said it was a murder so I picked up the trail of the kitsune you were tracking but by the time I got there, it had gone cold. So I started looking around for leads and that took me to a wendigo in Kentucky. And then I caught wind of a nest of vampires in Illinois.

“It just seemed like a never-ending trail of monsters but I wanted answers so badly that I kept following it. And I decided that I didn’t have to do it alone. Ya know? Hunters have a thankless job and I was tired of saving the world and never getting a break. So I started teaching others. Every town that had a problem, every monster I had to take down, I found someone who was willing and able and I taught them.

“Obviously I couldn’t teach them everything I knew all at once, otherwise the trail would run cold. So Garth and I came up with a great idea. Most of the information we had to work with came from experience and the internet, remember Dean? You can find just about anything online, but it’s weeding out what’s true versus what isn’t that can be time consuming and dangerous. So we got in touch with Charlie and had her help us create an online community for hunters. All our knowledge in one place so that others can benefit from our experience. But not just us, every hunter we got in touch with was on board with the idea. And the best part is that new information can be added as needed,” Sam said eagerly.

“Wow Sam,” Dean said. “I’m impressed. That seems like a huge project.”

“Oh man, was it ever. Took us forever,” Sam continued. “It wasn’t a complete replacement for guys like Bobby, but it helped. I have a feeling he’d have been proud.” He took a swig of his beer and looked down at where his fingers were nervously toying with the label. “We needed to name it something so that not just anyone could find it and I thought of Bobby. We ended up calling it Singer Salvation.”

Dean looked at his little brother with something akin to awe in his eyes. He clapped Sam on the shoulder and Ash sniffled noisily from the other side of the bar. Sam cleared his throat and continued his story.

“Anyways, I ended up getting caught up in the training of these new hunters and the trail went cold. I was angry for days, but I realized that I was doing so much more good, helping these people learn how to defend themselves and others. And I was ok with that. Just like I was ok with not going back to Stanford again.”

“Wait, you didn’t go back to college?” Dean interjected. “But what happened to becoming a lawyer? You never wanted to be a hunter.”

“Well, Dean, I figure Stanford just wasn’t the place I needed to be,” Sam said simply. “And I’m ok with that now. It took me a long time, both before and after you died, to realize that sometimes the things that we want for ourselves aren’t the best. My place was helping others, just like I had done all my life.”

Dean stared at him and wondered just when his little brother had grown up.

“And just like that, one day, a lead came across the wire about a kitsune that was working a particular highway strip and something clicked,” Sam said. “So I went to go check it out. You probably don’t remember but the kitsune you were tracking when you died was hunting a very familiar area. He left a trail of bodies on purpose and you walked right into his trap.”

Sam paused and looked pointedly at Dean. All of a sudden, recognition dawned on Dean’s face.

“Amy’s son!” he shouted. “I let him go after I killed his mother and he swore to avenge her. He killed me? But, he couldn’t have been more than, what, 12?”

“Yep,” Sam said. “And I’m not going to start bitching about how you shouldn’t have killed her, but he knew he couldn’t kill you in a straight fight, so he started plotting. He was clever. The trail I followed was a false lead he had in place that led me as far away as possible. He went underground and I lost track of him for nearly 15 years. Actually, it was a total accident that I found him in the first place. When I realized it was him and what he had done to you, I was out for blood. I tracked him down and I had every intention of killing him, but he had a daughter. I mean, it was the most clichéd thing ever man, but he had a tiny baby with him and I just… couldn’t. I stopped and thought about what you had done to his mom and what he had done to you and I just didn’t want the cycle to continue.

“ All of a sudden I felt so _tired_. I didn’t want vengeance anymore – not because I wasn’t pissed that you were killed, but because it just never ends. Ever. And it’s pointless. You were dead, and you weren’t coming back just because I caught the guy who killed you.”

He looked at Dean and shrugged.

“So I told him I was done. I wasn’t going to kill him. And I left. Or I tried to. But I guess he didn’t believe me or just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be a threat in the future and he attacked me. There was a struggle and he fell onto a pair of scissors. Silver-plated scissors. I swear the whole day was a bizarre collection of clichés.

“Anyways, so there was this tiny little baby and no parents, and I decided to adopt her. Turns out the kitsune traits are passed down through the mother, so she was completely human. So I raised her as my own. Her name was Faith. I taught her everything I knew and told her about her parents and let her decide for herself what she wanted to do. When I died she was finishing her second year of residency at Topeka General, specializing in emergency medicine.”

Sam smiled as he watched both Dean and Ash try to do the math in their heads. Dean turned to him with a wide grin and Sam matched it. “Yes Dean, I died an old man. Well, old for our profession. Sixty-seven isn’t bad for someone who’s died more than once,” he said with a wink.

There’s a loud _thunk_ and both Winchesters turn to look at Ash, who had disappeared briefly and reappeared with a large chalkboard he threw down on the bar.

“So it was 37 years after Dean died – how many months? Days? Hours?” Ash asked urgently.

Sam thought for a moment. “Hmm. Eight months, six days, but hours I couldn’t tell you, I was pretty out of it at the end.”

“How _did_ you end up going, after all?” Dean asked as Ash started frantically scribbling on the chalkboard.

“You know, it was the dumbest thing. Some stupid kid ran a red light and t-boned me. It wasn’t bad, but I couldn’t shake an infection and one thing led to another and bam. Here I am,” Sam said ruefully, shaking his head.

Dean picked up his beer and gestured for Sam to salute with him. “To us, two of the baddest motherfuckers out there – we’ve stopped the apocalypse twice, been to Hell and back and closed the gates of Hell forever, and we were taken out by a couple of stupid kids and cars.”

Sam laughed and took a sip of his beer. “Hear, hear.”

An excited shout from further down the bar drew their attention. Ash was holding up the chalkboard and jumping up and down.

“I’ve done it! I’ve figured out how time passes between the dimensions!” he said. “The answer is 42!”

Sam and Dean each raised an eyebrow.

Grabbing his chalkboard, Ash ran through one of the portals, presumably to share his findings with someone who could actually keep up with his technical jargon.

The boys settled back on their stools and sat in companionable silence for awhile (28 Earth minutes, Ash would later calculate) before finishing their last round of beers and each heading home; Dean back to his place with Castiel and Sam to the single storey ranch he had raised Faith in.

There was much to talk about and plenty of things to catch up on, but they weren’t in a hurry.

After all, they had all of eternity.


End file.
